


Just know I'm just like you

by literal_insect



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Wears a Skirt, Michael Shelley Lives, Michael has a stutter, No beta we die like archival assistants, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Nonbinary Michael Shelley, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, it/its pronouns for michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literal_insect/pseuds/literal_insect
Summary: When Helentakes over, Michael Shelley is released from the corridors and with the Archivist's help, figures out how to be human.
Relationships: Michael Shelley & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 37
Kudos: 100





	1. What do we know?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song Colours by Grouplove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I describe Michael's who being torn bloody from Its what, so, you've been warned. It's not too bad, and rather short, but still, just a content warning.
> 
> The title is taken from Turn the Lights Off by Tally Hall.

“Good. Right this way.” Michael says, leading the Archivist to the bright yellow door. It hadn’t _wanted_ to interfere with everything, and definitely not this drastically. But the Archivist has yet to stop the Unknowing, and will most likely bring it faster, so It’s decided to kill him. “Open it. Open it and all of this will be over.” 

The Archivist reaches the door and goes to turn the handle, but it doesn't turn. “Er.. its-” he tries another few times, but the handle doesn't budge. 

“What?” Michael says, growing impatient. 

“It’s locked.” 

“It's not.” It says laughing, It's distorted laughter filling the room. 

“Why is it locked?” 

“It can't be!” It says in disbelief. 

“Well you try it!” The Archivist almost yells in frustration. Michael frantically grasps at the door handle and rattles it. “Th-Tha-That-That’s… not-” It says worriedly. Then It realizes what is happening. “Oh. Oh no.”

It's overcome with an unbearable pain. Its body convulses and Its head feels like it's splitting in half. Its bones snap and reshape themselves. It cries out in a painful and distorted scream that fills the room. And just as quickly as it had started, it stops. The being that is now Michael Shelley lies limply on the floor. Then another door opens to reveal The Distortion, but It's... different. It's taken the shape of Helen Richardson, though it's distorted. Its hair is long, and in a few places the dark brown is replaced by bright swirling colours. Her hands are large, with knife-like fingers. Ones that Michael already misses. It.. he.. feels sore and it takes a lot of effort to sit up. 

The Distortion ignores Michael, and turns to the Archivist instead. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Wh… Helen? H-Helen Richardson? But… But y - Michael…” he stammers, then notices Michael sitting on the floor not far from him. “Oh… What happened?” 

“It got.. distracted. Let Its feelings overwhelm me.” She finally looks over at Michael. “And when I... _took over_ , Michael Shelley was released from the corridors.” 

“And now? Y-you’re Helen?” The Archivist asks, still trying to understand what's happened. 

“I don’t know. I never know, not really. Do I need a name?” She says looking back up at the Archivist. 

“Ah.. No, I suppose not.” 

“Helen is… better than Michael.” 

“But she's gone.” 

“Yes, well… That is what we thought about Michael Shelley, but..” She gestures towards Michael, still sitting on the floor, too tired and sore to say or do anything. 

“I.. okay.” The Archivist says, realizing that _Helen_ doesn't know much more than he does at the moment. 

“Do you still want to leave here?” It asks. 

“A-are you still going to kill me?” 

"No. That was Michael's desire, not mine." She says bluntly. The Archivist looks over at Michael, and they lock eyes for a moment. He sees pain in Its eyes, pain and regret.. sadness.. He isn't quite sure, but he knows that Michael won't be able to kill him anytime soon. He looks back at Helen. 

"So… So what do you want?" 

“I don’t know. Helen liked you so.. there's a lot to consider. But I will help you leave.” 

“Wait.. You're Mi- You’re the Distortion, the, the _Liar_ . How do I know this isn’t a trick?” He says, now rather worried. 

“And if it was, what would you do about it?” 

“Right. Right...” He glances back at Michael. “And what about _It_ , uh, _him?_ ” 

“I’m not sure if It wants to go back into the corridors, though it won't be a problem for me to take both of you if that's what you’re wondering. And you should hurry it up, Michael’s screaming probably didn’t go unnoticed.” 

“Ah..” He reaches his hand out towards Michael. “I’m guessing you’d rather come with us then stay here and… wait for a far worse fate?” 

Michael goes to answer, but Its throat is too dry and all that comes out is a small squeak. So instead It nods, takes the Archivist’s hand, and pulls Itself up. It's still far too weak, but the Archivist realizes just in time to catch It before It falls. 

“The door is open if you’re ready.” Helen says. 

“No, not, not really, but…” He sighs and he and Michael walk through the door behind Helen. 

\-------------------

“Look Jon, I understand you’re upset.” 

“A month Elias. And you did what, nothing?” The Archivist says, fuming. 

“I was doing everything in my power to locate you.” This earns a dry laugh from the Archivist “Everyone was working on finding the ritual sight.” 

“You didn’t tell them that I’d been _kidnapped_ though, did you?” 

“It wouldn’t have helped matters.” 

“Oh, imagine what might have happened if your rescue had been slower.” he says, mockingly. 

“Sarcasm isn’t going to help, Jon.” 

“The only thing that ‘isn’t going to help’ is _you_. I am _sick_ of relying on the _kindness_ of things whose stated intent is to kill me.” With that Elias looks over at Michael again. It's sitting in the chair to the Archivist's right, hugging Its knees to Its chest and staring attentively back at him. He looks back to Jon. 

“I am sorry, Jon, that my powers have not yet reached the level of omniscience. And I am sorry that I have to spend so much time helping you _develop_ your powers rather than explaining everything to you as if you were a child. But you have a job to do, and I _cannot_ fight your battles for you.” He says, rather irritated. 

“As far as I can tell the only battles _I’ve_ been fighting have been yours and Gertrude’s.” He practically yells. At the mention of Gertrude, Michael visibly shudders. Elias looks over at It, and so the Archivist does as well, a worried expression on his face. Michael looks at the both of them then tries to make Itself seem smaller, hugging its legs closer to Itself. 

“I should think preventing the horrific transformation of our world is not solely my concern.” Elias says, looking back at Jon. 

“Fine. At least we know you’re of zero practical use here.” The Archivist outstretches his hand towards Michael who takes it, and with that they both walk out of Elias’ office. 

Once they’re out of Elias’ office and into the Archivist’s office, Michael relaxes somewhat. It goes and sits in one of the chairs off to the side, sitting with Its knees to Its chest again. “Er.. Are you alright? I’m sorry for mentioning.. her… I, I wasn’t really thinking.” The Archivist says rather awkwardly, from the doorway. Michael looks up at him and goes to speak, but ends up going into a coughing fit instead. He rushes to Its side, worried but unsure of how to help. Its coughing subsides, and It looks up at the Archivist and laughs. It's a weak laugh, but clearly genuine. 

“Wh-what..?” He stammers out, more confused than worried. 

“It’s… it's nothing Archivist.” It says, still laughing, It’s voice hoarse and cracking. 

“I… alright. I’m going to go get you a glass of water, the break room is close by so I won’t be long.” Michael just nods, and the Archivist walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the transcript for most of the dialogue in this chapter, so yeah. Next chapter I will not be doing that because it won't follow canon as much.


	2. Do you ponder the manner of things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael Shelley has a stutter. And Jon uses He/him and They/them pronouns.
> 
> Also,, Helen brought them right into Jon's office, and as soon as they arrived they went to talk to Elias. So not much time has passed since Michael became human, and everything with It is still rather strange.
> 
> ((Title from Glitter and Gold by Barns Courtney))

Michael is looking at Itself in a mirror. The Archivist is sitting at a nearby table watching It, hoping none of his co-workers walk in. He isn’t in the mood to try and explain why what used to be the Distortion is currently in the Archive’s break room. They're taking this time to really look at Michael, and how different It looks. 

Its height seems like the only thing that wasn’t distorted at all. It seems to tower over everything and the Archivist guesses It's well over six feet tall. Its hair, which was once long and flowy with perfect curls is now a long, tangled mess. They watch as Michael picks at a small section of hair, trying to detangle it with Its fingers, but quickly giving up. The biggest change is Its hands. They’re no longer large, with knife-like fingers, they’re now normal looking, and casuled, with a few small scars here and there. 

As Michael looks at Itself in the mirror, It doesn't feel right. What It sees isn’t It, it can’t be. It misses Its impossibly perfect curls, the bright swirling patterns that used to cover Its skin. Its eyes - which used to be spirals of bright ever-changing colours - are a dull grey, and that doesn't feel right. It just stands there in front of the mirror, examining all of these changes with a mournful expression on Its face. 

“Uh… Michael? Are you doing alright?” The Archivist asks quietly. 

“I’m… I’m not sure…” It says, with a small, humourless laugh as It turns to look at the Archivist. “This is all so.. peculiar.” It looks down at Its shaky hands, examining them thoroughly before letting out a long exasperated sigh and going to sit in the chair next to the Archivist. They sit there in silence for a bit, neither one knowing what to say. Michael keeps trying to untangle Its hair, to no avail. 

“Would you like me to brush out your hair? It’s rather tangled.” The Archivist asks. “Or you could do it yourself I suppose, I… sorry.” 

“Oh… that would be… pleasant.” It says quietly, looking up at them. 

“Alright. Let’s go back into my office then.” He says, rather surprised that It agreed. He stands up from his chair and reaches his hand out towards Michael, who takes it, and they walk out of the break room together. But as the Archivist walks out of the break room, they nearly run into Tim. 

“Jeez, watch where you’re going-” He looks up to see the Archivist and Michael. “You… Where have you been? And why is _he_ here?” He says fiercely. 

“Tim.. not right now please-” 

“No, you’re answering my questions, Jon. What the hell is he doing here?” The Archivist looks up at Michael who's shifting from side to side uncomfortably, then sighs and says “It- he’s human now. It's.. it's really rather complicated..”

“You expect me to believe you? To just go along with this? Just like that?” Tim says with a bitter laugh. “Where have you been for the past month anyway?” 

“I was kidnapped... Now will you please let us through?” 

“I, oh…” He says, losing most of his ferocity and growing quiet. 

“I-Its fine, Tim. Look, we can talk about this later.” The Archivist walks past Tim, and Michael follows suit, still holding his hand. 

They make it back to the Archivist’s office without running into anyone else. When they walk inside, the Archivist realizes they’re still holding Michael’s hand and quickly lets go and walks over to his desk. Michael just stands by the door, looking at Its feet, unsure of what to do with Itself. 

“Would you like to do it yourself?” The Archivist asks, breaking the silence. 

“What..?” It says, looking up, and it sees the Archivist sitting in his office chair, holding a hairbrush. “Oh, I’m still rather sore, would you mind..?” It stammers. 

“Oh, not at all. Come here.” He says with a small smile. 

Michael rather awkwardly walks over to the Archivist and sits with Its back to him. The Archivist gingerly picks out a section of hair and starts brushing it. He does it slowly and is careful not to pull too hard. They stay in relatively uncomfortable silence for a good few minutes, the Archivist, delicately moving from section to section of awfully tangled hair, and Michael just sitting there, more or less content. It finally decides to ask what's been on Its mind for some time.

“Archivist, why are you being so kind to me?” The Archivist tenses up, but keeps brushing Its hair. “I… what do you mean exactly?” They say, clearly flustered. 

“I was going to, to, to _kill_ you.” It starts fidgeting with Its hands. “And, and you could have left me there, to be killed by the Dancer, or, or, or worse. But you didn’t. You helped me get out alive, and you are currently brushing my hair…” It trails off, with a small laugh. 

“Oh..” The Archivist removes his hands from Michael’s hair. 

“Oh? Th-th-that’s it?” Michael says, raising Its voice and turning around to face them. “I was going to _kill_ you!” 

“Well I couldn’t have just left you there, that's inhuman!” 

“Well you aren't exactly _human_ , now are you, Archivist?” It says with a laugh. There's a pause before the Archivist says “I… No, you’re lying..” 

“I am not. I no longer need to lie, a-and you are no longer human-.” 

“I, I, I don’t know what you’re talking about...” 

“Oh I think you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” 

The Archivist looks away from Michael, defeated. Michael takes this time to really look at him. Its looked at them closely before when It was the Distortion, but back then everything It saw was covered in bright swirling colours. So as It looks at them now It notices how his long hair is a mixture of brown and grey and white. That the multitude of scars on their face are a lighter shade then the rest of their skin, which is the color of cinnamon. That his glasses are attached to a thin gold chain. As It takes in these details the Archivist turns back to face It and they lock eyes for a brief moment before Michael looks down at Its hands again. 

“Look, I don’t know why I helped you. I really don’t. And I’m being kind to you because…. Because it’s what I would want if I were in your situation.” 

“But I was going to kill you..” It says quietly. It isn’t sure if the Archivist actually heard It speak until they say “Are you still going to?” 

“W-what?” 

“Are you still going to kill me?” He repeats, and Michael can hear a bit of static in their voice. 

“I.. no. When I was the Distortion I thought of you as Gertrude’s replacement and, and.. and I know she died but I still wanted my… revenge I supposed. But no, I’m not going to kill you.” It looks up at him and says, “And I don’t appreciate being beheld, Archivist.” .

“Ah.. sorry. I can’t exactly control it.” They say apologetically. They stay there in uncomfortable silence for a while, Michael still fidgeting with Its hands, mostly just to have something to do. The Archivist finally gets tired of the silence and speaks up. “I, uh... Would you like me to finish brushing your hair?” 

“Oh. No, you’ve probably got some work to do. I can do it on my own.” It takes the hairbrush, stands up, goes to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk and starts to brush Its hair. 

“Alright. I’m going to change out of this,” he gestures to the tattered outfit he’d worn while he had been kidnapped in the wax museum, “and then I’ll read a statement I suppose.” Michael just hums in response. The Archivist stands up from their chair and goes over to a small table with a bag on it. They grab the bag and walk out the door, closing it behind themself. 

Michael sits there, determined on brushing out Its hair, but Its arms quickly grow tired and It gives up, hoping that the Archivist won’t mind brushing out Its hair before reading the statement. _‘He did offer, so he most likely won’t mind’_ , It rationalizes. _‘I wonder how long he’ll be, probably not too long, not unless he runs into that assistant again’_. It lets out a small laugh and looks down at Its hands, noticing what It's wearing again. An orange long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans, both rather damaged. It's what It wore on that trip to Sannikov Land, aside from a jacket which has been long since discarded. _‘I would rather appreciate a change of clothes as well.’_

The Archivist is rather glad that they kept a change of clothes in their office, he wouldn’t have been able to go the rest of the day in old tattered ones. It doesn't take him long, and he quickly returns to his office, rather glad to not have run into anyone. They walk inside and close the door behind themself, and see that Michael has given up on brushing out Its hair. 

“Are you still sore, from.. well…you know?” He says, but Michael seems to be lost in thought. “Michael..?” It jumps slightly and turns to look at them. Its face is etched with a look of surprise, but it quickly turns to something akin to curiosity. It can’t help but notice how different he looks in what he’s wearing, a nice green skirt that reaches his ankles, and a grey cardigan over a white collared shirt. 

“Michael?” They say again. 

“I..” It starts to say, looking away from the Archivist. 

“You’ve already given up on brushing your hair?” They say, walking over to put their bag back on the table. “Would it be alright if I did it for you? I’m sorry if this is strange but your hair is actually rather nice.” 

“Oh.. Go ahead. I, I don’t mind.” And with that the Archivist walks over to the desk, picks up the hairbrush, goes to stand behind Michael and starts brushing Its hair. They stay like that for a while, both of them rather content as the Archivist runs the hairbrush through Its hair.


	3. I don't know if I count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk. The Archivist reads a statement. Michael gives some advice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from Saint Bernard by Lincoln.

“That’s a rather nice skirt, Jon.” Basira says as she walks into the break room. The Archivist who is over at the counter making some tea jumps a bit at her voice, but as he turns around to see it's only her, he relaxes. 

“I, uh, thank you. I don’t usually wear stuff like this because of the ‘dress code’, but I’ve stopped caring about that, to be honest. It's not like Elias can do anything about it.” 

“Ah, makes sense.” She says as she goes to sit at the table, a book in hand. “Where have you been? No one’s seen you in about a month.” 

“Oh, I was... Well, I was kidnapped..” He says quietly 

“You were kidnapped?” She exclaims. 

“Yeah...” 

“Jeez, Jon I’m so sorry. Elias didn’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, he said he was _‘Doing everything in his power to find me’_ , but I don’t really believe him.” 

“Are you alright though, because a month is a long time.” 

“I’m okay, I just.. Can we not get into it right now.”

“Of course, sorry for prying.” The kettle whistles and the Archivist turns to pour two cups of tea. He sets them on a tray and goes into one of the cupboards, looking for some biscuits. 

“Why are you making two cups?” Basira asks. 

“Oh. Well, I’ve gotten some company back in my office.” 

“Not unwelcome company I hope.” 

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Don’t worry.” They say quickly. ”Though I can’t quite call him a _friend_.” He takes out a box of sweetmeal biscuits and puts a few on a plate. 

“Really? You’re making him tea and giving him some of the best biscuits we’ve got.” She says with a small laugh. 

“Right. Well… he kind of went through a lot earlier today, I’m just trying to help the best I can.” 

“That's rather nice of you.” 

“I’m not a horrible person you know.” 

“Mmhmm.” She says, giving him a look. 

“Basira!” 

“Alright sorry, I’m only messing with you.” She says with a laugh. 

“Right, yes.” 

“Well do I know this _‘not friend’_ of yours?” 

“Uh, I don’t think so. His name is Michael?” 

“That's a rather common name.” 

“Yes, that’s true. You’ll meet him soon enough though, he’ll probably be hanging out here rather often.” They pick up the tray and turn around to face Basira. “Right, well I’ll be off now. I’ll see you later.” 

“Right, see you.” 

\-------------------

The Archivist returns to his office and places the tray on his desk. “Here you are Michael, I even managed to find some sweetmeal biscuits.” They announce, sitting down in the desk chair. 

“Oh. Thank you, Archivist.” It says not looking up. The Archivist had given It a small notebook and a pen and It's been busily writing in it since they left to make tea. Though It seems to have gone through their desk as there are now a few pens of different colours laying out in front of It. 

“Why do you insist on calling me that? Archivist. You can just call me Jon.” He says, glancing over the stolen pens. 

“I’m not sure, it just sounds right... I-I could stop though, if you don’t like it.” It says, looking up at them from across the desk. 

“Ah, no. It's alright.” 

“Okay…” It looks back down at the notebook and scribbles something down. The Archivist goes through his desk and takes out a few papers that are filed together. It's a statement, rather recent compared to some of the ones they’ve read before, only from 2014. The follow-up has already been done on it, he just needs to record it, but there’s something else occupying his mind. 

“Michael?” 

It hums in response, not looking up from the notebook. 

“What are your pronouns?” 

It stops scribbling now, clearly confused. “I… I’m not sure. Mi- I used to go by he. But since being the Distortion I’ve gone by It, but that was mostly because I wasn’t really a _person_.” It stammers. 

“Well, what are you the most comfortable with now?” Michael pauses for a moment before answering, really thinking it over. 

“I think I like It. Though I suppose that's rather odd since I’m _human_ now.” It says with a humourless chuckle. 

“Oh. No, not at all. Some people would rather be called It then he, she, or they.” He says reassuringly. Michael looks up at them with a smile on Its face. 

“Really?” 

“Yup, don’t worry about it.” Its smile only grows larger. 

“And, and what about you, Archivist? What are your pronouns, it's rather impolite of me to have never asked before.” The Archivist laughs then says “Oh it's rather alright. I go by they and he.” 

“Alright, I’ll make sure to remember that.” It goes back to writing in the notebook, still smiling. The Archivist looks through the file he’s got on his desk again, making sure they’ve got everything they need. 

“Michael, I’m going to record a statement. Are you okay with that?” Michael just hums in affirmation. 

“Alright.” They take a recorder out of the desk drawer and turn it on. “Statement of François Deschamps, regarding the family and presumed marriage of Benoît Maçon…”

\------------------- 

“Statement ends. Th- This is uhm..” They look through the papers again. “This is written in French. A-all of it.”

“Oh? Do you..?” Michael says, looking up. 

“No.. I don’t… I don’t speak French. I-I don’t even read... I’ve never…” He sighs “I wish I could find it myself to be surprised.” They look over the other pages. 

“Er, this statement seems to have been given directly to Ger- uh... to the previous Archivist. Though not apparently recorded. Did she perhaps leave her tape recorder at home when she took this little ‘field trip’ with Gerard? June 2014…That was barely a year before her murder, and less then half a year before Gerard Keay’s brain tumor would lead to his own death. Did he know already? That his life was ending? Was he trying to accomplish one last good deed? Were they both?” 

“Archivist..?” 

“Oh.. sorry. Uhm.” He finishes reading out the follow-up, which is mostly details about Gertrude and where she went after taking this statement. 

“In the meantime I…, I have a new flat. I should try to get comfortable, change the locks. Even if I might need to be leaving it for a while.. or…” He trails off, lost in thought then turns off the tape and lays his head in his hands. 

“Are you alright, Archivist?” It says, oddly enough It seems genuinely concerned. 

“I.. I don’t know, Michael.” They say, not looking up. “I just… I’ve got a bunch of leads to follow-up on. I need to figure out where she went next. Figure out what I can about the Unknowing, like how to stop it. And it's just... It's a lot.” They let out a long sigh. “I-I’m sorry for rambling on... I have no right to be complaining like this, I mean, you were torn from the Distortion only a few hours ago for Christ’s sake! I just-” 

Michael throws Its head back and lets out loud, amused laughter that fills the room. The Archivist quickly looks up at It, not having expected this kind of reaction. It takes a bit, but Its laughter eventually subsides. “What.. what was that about?” He asks, still rather confused. 

“You need to give yourself a break, Archivist.” It says with an amused look on Its face. “You were being held hostage at an old wax museum for the past month. Let someone else deal with all of this” 

“While that is true, I can’t just take a break!” 

“And why is that?” 

“The Unknowing, Michael! I’ve got to figure out what exactly it is and how to stop it-” 

“Why not let someone else do that? Just this once at least. You deserve a break, and as you said, you’ve got a new flat...” 

“I… I don’t know.. I can’t just…” 

“But you _can_. You’ve got assistants for a reason, right? Just tell them what you need them to work on and you won’t have to worry about it.” It pauses for a moment, thinking of what else It can say to convince them, but they just sigh and shake their head. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to take _your_ advice.” They say with a small smile. 

“Hey!” It says with a laugh. 

“No. You are right though. I’ll go and tell them... I haven't actually told everyone that I’m back.. or where I’ve been..” 

“Well, you should do that before you start ordering them around.” 

“Hey, it was _your_ idea.” 

“Yeah, yeah... Should I go with you?” 

“Uhh.. no, it's probably best if you stay here.” 

“Okay.”

“And don’t go looking through my stuff, please.” He says, gesturing to the different pens in front of them. 

“The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.” It says, innocently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to continue posting 1 chapter every Friday or Saturday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archivist talks with their coworkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm no good at titles. I might title a few more at some point, but for now, I will not.

As the Archivist finishes telling their coworkers about where he’s been for the past month, he looks around to see how they’re taking it. He had told both Basira and Tim earlier that day so he isn’t surprised to see that they aren’t reacting much. They look to Martin to see him looking rather shocked, and nearly in tears. They look to Melanie, and she looks shocked and confused. They had even managed to find Daisy, which was unexpected as she hadn’t been around the Institute in a few days. And as the Archivist looks to her she looks back at him with a look of almost astonishment, before quickly going back to a neutral expression. 

“So, this Michael guy is in your office, like, right now?” Melanie asks. 

“The one who stopped me and Martin from helping you?” Tim adds. 

All the Archivist can do is agree. 

“And what’re you going to do now? Get all buddy-buddy with him?” Tim says, bitterly. 

“ _It_... And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do next. All I know is that I’m going to take a small break, only a few days off, before getting back to.. all this..” He says, addressing everyone. 

“And what about Michael?” Daisy chimes in. 

“I…I suppose I’ll have to ask what It thinks is best. But both of us could use a break honestly.” 

“So you’re going to invite him to your flat?” Tim laughs. 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” 

“Literally anything else.” 

He sighs. “Look, I understand that you don’t trust It. But It's been through a lot so I’m going to try and help.” They look around at everyone and ask “Does anyone else have anything to add?” 

“I think it's an awful plan.” Daisy chimes in. “It was going to kill you, then It turns human, and what? Changes Its mind? And you believe It?” 

“It's not that simple. I didn’t just _ask_ It, I more so pull out the information...There’s no way It could have been lying.” 

“Well, that's just great. You’ve got evil powers too!” Melanie exclaims. 

“Melanie!” Basira interjects. 

“She’s not wrong.” Tim adds. 

“Look, do whatever you want Jon, I honestly do not care.” Melanie finishes with a huff. What follows is a silent agreement that they've finished talking and the archival assistants walk out of the room, all except for Martin who still hasn’t said a word. 

“Martin..?” The Archivist says quietly. 

“Look I’m _so_ sorry, Jon, I... Elias didn’t even tell any of us that you’d been kidnapped. I didn’t know. No one else was telling me. And there wasn’t any-” 

“Oh. Hey, hey, hey... It's alright, it's alright.” They say, trying to calm Martin down. “Elias didn’t tell anyone... There was no way you could have known. I mean, I wasn’t exactly here before..” 

“No, you weren't. But I’m sure if you could have been then you would have.” He babbles on. “Are you alright? I mean jeez Jon, they were going to skin you!” 

“I’m, I’m okay… And I’m trying my best to forget about that honestly, it's not very pleasant to think about.” 

“Right..” There's a pause before Martin says “So, Michael..?” 

“Yeah, It's human now...” 

“It?” 

“Uhm, yes. Michael goes by It.” 

“Oh...” 

“I suppose both of us will be spending the next few days at my flat.” They say with a small laugh. “I’ll be keeping in touch though, I just.. I don’t know… Elias mentioned... he said you’d been reading statements? 

“Oh, uhm yeah. He said it might help.” 

“Right. I mean they’re not.. They haven't… You’ve been okay?” They stammer. 

“Yeah. I mean.. It wasn’t _fun_ but, I mean if it helps...” 

“Okay. If you’re sure just.. Make sure the others help you, alright? Statements can be... If you’re not used to them they can be a bit weird..” 

“Er.. sure.” 

“Anyway, I should get going. I should go talk with Michael and figure out what's happening.” 

“Right, right.” 

“I’m... I’m sorry Martin, I know we haven't talked much since Sasha and everything.” 

“Well, I mean it’s not too late you know. Unless the world ends.” He says with a nervous laugh. 

“Yeah.” 

\------------------- 

The Archivist makes their way back to their office. Once they walk inside they see Michael sitting in the chair with Its legs draped over the armrest. They can’t help but smile looking at It, Its face scrunched up as It concentrates on whatever It’s writing. He almost doesn’t want to disrupt It, but he knows he should. 

“Hey, Michael...” They say as they walk further into the room, going to sit in their office chair. Michael looks up at them and says “How did it go, Archivist?” 

“It was.. alright.” He says, and It just hums in acknowledgment. “I was wondering though… What about you? While I’m at my flat what are you going to do?” 

“Well, I was thinking about that earlier. Don’t you still have the climate-controlled storage room here?” It says as It moves Its legs down from the armrest and maneuvers around so It's sitting cross-legged in the chair. 

“Yes, but you don’t need to stay here. You could come with me if you’d like.” 

“That would be rather... cordial. And it would be nice to get out of the Eye’s domain...” It says, seeming to consider Its options. The Archivist just waits patiently for It to decide. 

“Hmm, yes. That seems like the best option.” It says finally. 

“Okay.” He says with a smile. “We can leave rather soon if you’d like, I’ll just need to check what time the tram arrives.” 

“That sounds good.” It replies as It goes back to writing in the notebook. The Archivist logs into his laptop and checks the schedule to see that the next tram doesn't arrive for another half hour. He looks up to tell Michael but sees It deep in concentration again, writing something in the notebook. He just watches It for a bit, noticing the way Its expressions change as It writes, and how when It isn’t writing It twirls the pen in a coil of hair. Occasionally It will tap repeatedly on the side of the notebook before stopping quickly and writing something down. 

It’s currently twirling the pen into Its hair. The Archivist watches as it goes around the golden curl, then It stops suddenly and he looks up at Michael’s face to see It looking at him with a small smile, Its face otherwise unreadable despite slightly flushed cheeks. They quickly look away, flustered to have been caught staring. 

“When does the tram arrive?” It asks, ignoring what just happened. 

“In about a half-hour, we could walk to the tram stop now if you’d like though.” 

“Yes, that would be nice.” With that, The Archivist turns back to his laptop, closes it, and walks over to put it in his bag. Michael closes Its new notebook - It doesn't plan on giving it back to The Archivist - and stands up, but as It does a few pens fall out of where It had absentmindedly put them in Its hair and It jumps. Seeing this the Archivist laughs, and Michael just ignores him and starts touching Its hair to see if there are any more pens left. 

“Did that happen often?” They say, still laughing. Michael just glares at them while untangling a pen from Its hair. He walks over and picks up the fallen pens, placing them on the desk. 

“You can take a total of two pens.” They say as they place the last one on the desk. Michael looks to the Archivist with a raised eyebrow then looks over at the pens for a moment before deciding on two - one with red ink, the other with blue ink. He picks the rest of them up and tosses them into one of the drawers in the desk. 

“If you’re ready we can head out now.” He says, looking up. Michael just nods, and the Archivist picks up their bag. “Hopefully we can avoid running into anyone.” He walks towards the door and opens it for Michael, who walks through it. They lock the door behind themself and walk ahead of Michael leading the way out - though they don’t need to as Michael remembers Its way around the Archives. Michael doesn’t like being in the Archives, too many memories. As It walks behind the Archivist It goes to hold his hand again, seeking some sort of comfort, but then thinks the better of it and lets Its hand drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad you all like this. I'm not sure how long I'm going to make this fic, but It'll be another few chapters at least. So, yeah. thank you all so much !!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments ! They honestly make my day ! 
> 
> Also, I'm writing this as platonic*, but if you see it more as Michael/The Archivist, that's all good.
> 
> * it's platonic, but they're both very touched starved and don't know what feelings are.

“Sorry about the boxes,” The Archivist says as he unlocks the door and walks through, “I haven’t had much time to actually _move in_.” Michael doesn’t say anything, It just walks into the room. Other than the boxes, the first thing It sees is a large open room that seems to consist of the living room and kitchen. The kitchen is small and not rather interesting, there’s a counter connected to it with three comfortable-looking stools. It brushes by it and goes instead to the couch, which is large and comfortable looking. When It reaches the couch It just plops down and drapes Its legs over the armrest. 

“Michael? What are you-” 

“Not now, Archivist.” Michael interrupts, “I’m tired.” It drapes an arm over its face dramatically which causes the Archivist to laugh. Their laugh is a light, gentle sound, and It can’t help but smile at hearing it. 

“Alright.“ They say, placing their bag on the counter. “I was going to show you around, but there isn’t much to see. Plus I’ve still got lots of unpacking to do.” 

“Clearly.” It says with a smile. 

“Mmhmm… Well. I’m going to take a quick shower… I, uhm…” He pauses for a moment and Michael looks up. “What is it?” It asks. 

“I just realized that… well, you’ll need to borrow some of my clothes for the time being, and, well…” They gesture to their small stature, which is drastically different from Michael’s own. 

“Ah…” 

“I… We’ll figure something out… I uh, follow me.” They start walking away, down a small hallway and Michael gets up and follows them. The Archivist leads the way to their bedroom and goes to the open box on the bed and starts rummaging through it, clearly looking for something. Also on the bed are a couple more boxes - these are still closed - and a few messily folded blankets. Michael looks around the room, It sees a couple of empty shelves on one wall and a seemingly empty dresser against the other. It looks back towards the Archivist to see him laying a few different clothing items on the bed. 

“Alright. Take your pick.” He says, looking up at Michael. It looks down at the clothes and there are a few different things to choose from, It settles on a large, fluffy looking sweater and a long, flowy black skirt and the Archivist places the other clothes back into the box. 

“Right, so hopefully those will fit.” They turn to face Michael, “You can shower first, and I’ll order some food. Alright?” 

“Alright....” It replies. The Archivist leads the way out of the room and goes to another box and grabs a towel and hands it to Michael. They gesture towards the other room and say “Take however long you need.” It just smiles and walks into the room. 

\------------------- 

Michael is looking at Itself in the mirror. The clothes that the Archivist gave It fit rather well, and It’s feeling far more comfortable after the shower but as It looks in the mirror, what It sees still doesn’t feel right. Its hair seems dull and boring as It brushes it, and Its hands, they feel so odd. It stops brushing Its hair to look at Its hands, It holds them up to Its face, examining them as if mesmerized. It stays there for a bit, trying to remember what it was like before the Spiral. What it was like to be human. Then It laughs. It's a small, humourless laugh, and it too feels wrong. It sounds much more real, so different from the distorted, static laugh It’s grown used to. Michael doesn’t know why It’s laughing, and It doesn’t like the sound of it so It stops. 

\------------------- 

The Archivist and Michael are sitting at the counter eating some takeout. Neither of them has tried sparking a conversation. Michael has something on Its mind, but doesn’t know how to address it so It’s been waiting for the Archivist to say something. But finally, It's decided It's waited long enough. 

“Archivist..? Where am I going to sleep?” It stutters. 

“You can take the bed.” They say without any signs of hesitation. 

“I… Alright.” It says, then they go back into silence. 

Michael pushes away what It had been eating and picks up the notebook. It’s been writing a lot in it since the Archivist gave it to It, but nothing coherent or important. It’s been writing down some words or phrases and sometimes It’s written about Its surroundings. The pages are mostly filled with a jumble of words, only indistinguishable by the different colours they’re written in, but now all It has is red and blue. Michael starts writing on a new page and as It writes It can feel a pair of eyes on It, Michael looks up to see the Archivist surveying It and they quickly look away muttering a small sorry. This sparks Michael’s interest. 

“I don’t mind.” It says, a smile evident in Its voice. 

The Archivist looks up at this, “What..?” they ask in a quiet voice. 

Michael laughs and says, “I don’t mind you looking at me.” 

Just as the Archivist goes to respond they hear the sound of a door creaking open. They look over to see a yellow door in the wall that wasn’t there before. It opens all the way and out walks Helen. 

“Hello, Archivist. Michael.” She says, walking towards them. 

The Archivist turns towards her, “What are you doing here?” he stammers. 

“Can’t I visit my friends?” She says with a smile that seems just a tad too wide. 

“We’re not your friends.” Michael says quickly, despite Its stutter. 

“Oh, you’ll come around eventually.” 

“Why are you _actually_ here?” The Archivist asks. 

“She’s not going to tell you.” It grumbles. 

“Well, I _am_.” She says, still smiling. “I’m here to talk... But you two don’t seem too cheery.” 

“Well, I’m _sorry_ about that.” It says, stutter worsening with Its frustration. 

“Here to talk? About what?” The Archivist says, ignoring how upset Michael is. 

“I’m not entirely sure. I’m... having trouble.” 

“With what?” They ask. Helen looks to Michael and It looks back at her with a look of both sadness and anger. 

She shakes her head. “No, nevermind... I’ll come by another time.” And before anyone can respond she turns on her heels and walks back through the yellow door, which promptly disappears. 

The Archivist and Michael are left in silence once more, neither of them quite knowing what to say after that. Michael picks up the notebook to have something to do. It picks up a pen and starts writing. 

\------------------- 

Michael doesn’t know how long It’s been writing, but It's managed to fill another page with unimportant notes and has relaxed significantly. It looks up from the notebook and notices how late it’s gotten, and that the Archivist is no longer sitting across from It. Michael looks around frantically in search of him, not wanting to be left alone. It looks to the couch to see him sitting there, and It calms down. He’s sitting with a blanket over his shoulders and has his laptop sitting on the table in front of him. It goes over to sit next to them only to notice that they’ve fallen asleep. It decides to go and do the same. Michael walks to the bedroom, turning off the overhead light as It goes. 

Once It reaches the bedroom It moves the boxes and crawls into bed. Michael lays there in the dark for a while, unable to fall asleep. Every small noise seems to be amplified in the otherwise quiet night, only making it more difficult. Michael finds Its mind whirring with thoughts. It thinks about the Archivist and how kind they’ve been throughout the day. How being around them made It feel better while It was in the Eye’s domain. How their presence alone had made the day more bearable, despite how strange everything had felt. Michael even finds Itself missing his presence now. It knows that he’s just in the other room, but It can’t help but feel _alone_. After some time, It finally drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the sad ending again, I promise I'll stop doing that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and the Archivist go to a charity shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not posting a chapter last week,, my upload schedule might be rather wonky, as I haven't much time to write.

Michael finds Itself in the corridors. The bright swirling colours of the wall make It sick to Its stomach. It tries to find a way out but knows that even if there is one, It won’t be able to find it. It rushes down the halls, not bothering to look at any of the mirrors It passes, too scared of what It might see. Greens turn to purples, which turn to yellows in a blurred mass as It runs. The carpet beneath Its feet is a spiraling combination of ugly colours. Michael runs and runs, but It knows that there’s nowhere to run to. It turns down different branches of corridors, all the while knowing It won't be able to escape the inevitable. Everything is warping around It. Michael keeps running until It finds Itself in front of a door. A door It knows It shouldn’t open. It tries Its best to turn around, to run the other way, but It can’t. Michael watches in horror as It reaches out towards the door, despite Its efforts against it. It looks at Its hand, which is large and warped. It wants to run, but It can’t. Michael watches as Its too large hand slowly reaches out and touches the doorknob. Then It wakes up. 

Michael sits up in a cold panic and surveys Its surroundings. It takes a bit, but It slowly starts to recognize where It is. It looks at Its hands and seeing that they’re normal It starts to calm down. Most of Its immediate panic subsides as It sits there. Michael doesn’t know what time it is, but from looking out the window It can tell that it’s still rather early. It knows that It won’t be able to fall back asleep after that, so It slowly gets up from the bed, takes one of the folded blankets and drapes it over Its shoulders, and walks out of the bedroom towards the living room. 

As Michael walks to the living room It doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as the light coming in through the window is enough. It looks to the couch to see the Archivist there, still asleep. It decides to sit by the coffee table instead of at the counter so It can be closer to them. It grabs the notebook off the counter where It left it last night then walks over to the coffee table and sits down. Michael opens Its notebook and starts writing as a way to distract Itself. 

\------------------- 

After a few minutes of writing, Michael calmed down, and being near the Archivist has helped significantly. He has since woken up and is currently making them some tea. Michael has yet to mention the nightmare but has since moved to sit at the counter, not wanting to be too far away from the Archivist. 

“There are some things I need to get done today.” The Archivist speaks up. Michael hums in acknowledgment. “I’ve got to pick up some groceries, as the fridge and cupboards are relatively empty. And… well, I also thought that we should go do some clothes shopping for you.” He finishes, a bit hesitant. 

“Oh..." It says quietly. Michael _would_ like to do that - as It knows It can't continue to share the Archivist's clothing - but It doesn't like the idea of going out in public, not yet at least. The thought of being around so many people is not a welcome one. Michael is shaken out of Its thoughts by the sound of the kettle boiling. The Archivist turns around to grab it and fills the already prepared mugs. 

“I understand if you don’t want to go out in public,” they say as if reading Its mind, “but we’ve got to think of something.” They maneuver around the small kitchen then sit next to Michael. 

“Are you alright?” They ask in a soft voice. “You haven’t spoken much this morning.” Michael doesn’t say anything and instead places Its focus on the mug in front of It as a way to avoid looking at the Archivist. 

They sigh, then say, “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you if you don’t want to, but could you at least tell me how I can help?” There’s a brief pause, then “I don’t… I don’t want to be alone…” It stutters out in a quiet voice. 

“Alright, I’ll stay as long as you need.” He says reassuringly. 

\------------------- 

The Archivist decided that going to a charity shop was probably the best option as there wouldn’t be too many people there so Michael wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. And that seems to be the case. Ever since they’ve walked into the store It seems to be far more at ease than when they were on the tram. The Archivist watches as Michael surveys Its surroundings, then Its eyes light up and It rushes towards a rack of clothes. He follows behind It and sees that It’s picked out a green button-up shirt with pale green stripes. It continues looking through the rack, picking out a few equally gaudy clothes and the Archivist just watches, amused by what It’s choosing. Most of the clothes look like they’ll be too large for Its thin frame, but Michael doesn’t seem to mind. Seemingly satisfied with what It found, Michael moves on to another rack of clothes. 

The Archivist looks through a few clothes himself but doesn’t see anything particularly interesting. They look up, expecting to see Michael nearby, but It's nowhere in sight. They’re not too worried, but they also know that It doesn’t want to be alone, so he starts looking for It. It doesn’t take too long, and when he finds It It’s got a few more clothes in Its arms. 

“Michael, you can’t just leave me behind like that.” They say, though not unkindly. 

“Right, sorry.” It says, unable to suppress a smile. 

“Are you having fun?” He says with a laugh. 

“Yes! There are so many nice clothes here.” It says, picking out another clothing item. 

“Err, right.” They say, looking at the different combinations of patterns and colors currently being held in Its arms. 

“Oh, come on, Archivist.” Michael says playfully, and the Archivist can’t help but smile. Then, without warning, It takes their hand in Its own and excitedly starts walking towards another rack of clothes. The Archivist flushes at the contact and follows It. 

It drops his hand and grabs a shirt off the rack. It's a grey, collared shirt and it’s covered mostly in floral patterns of all different colours. The Archivist looks at Michael, who seems delighted to have found the shirt. 

“Oh wow, that sure is something.” He says with a laugh. 

“Yes,” It looks at the clothes It’s picked out then says, “I think I’m ready to leave now.” 

“Alright.” He says, still smiling, as he takes Michael’s hand in his own. They walk towards the cash register together, their hands entwined, and Michael can’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I might have been projecting a bit, uhhh. So their relationship is defo more of a QPR kinda thing then platonic.


	7. an update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a new chapter, just a small update on things.

I'm sorry for not posting in so long. I ran into a spot where I didn't know what to do next, and I just got very distracted with life and everything and kind of forgot about this for a while.  
But I'm back.  
I've been rewriting the previous chapters and changing some things up. I will post the _new and improved_ story at some point, but I'll make a new work for that.   
I will update this work again when I do post the new chapters so that you can go and look at it if you'd like. 

Again, I just want to say I'm sorry and I also want to thank you all, I read the comments rather often and they always make me smile !


	8. another update

I'm sorry it's been so long, my motivation dwindled again. I decided to post the newer version of this work, I will be keeping this one up too, don't worry. 

The new work is called "Who are you really?".

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793274/chapters/70611153

I don't know how to make the link work, sorry, so if you want to read it you can copy and paste that or you can search for it.


End file.
